Rosa Sine Spina
by Abel
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Ginny lives and works as a Muggle. But there's something that still connects her to the Wizarding World.
1. Rosa Sine Spina

They haven't met since he graduated three years ago and he feels a bit sorry about that.  
  
She lives in a tiny flat in the Muggle part of Southampton. Ron has told him that she works as an accountant. He is a bit surprised at the fact that she works and lives as a Muggle.  
  
The staircase is dirty and the smell of cabbage which is almost a cliché for this kind of apartment house comes from a flat on the second floor. He steps over several pairs of dirty walking boots. A child cries in the flat that smells of cabbage.  
  
Ginny's flat is on the third floor.  
  
There is no name written on the plate next to the door bell, but a fretwork that shows a redheaded witch in a black dress and a pointy hat on a broom is hanging from a nail in the door. It looks really delicate and he wonders if it's done with magic or by hand.  
  
He takes a deep breath and rings the door bell.  
  
"I'm coming!"  
  
The door opens and it is, indeed, Ginny. She is taller, older, prettier and...  
  
He stares at her.  
  
"Who got you pregnant?"  
  
He knows that it's not the appropriate thing to say, but it is neither an appropriate thing to be pregnant when your old crush visits you, is it?  
  
"A guy. ME. Whatever."  
  
Her smile is wicked, evil and she unbuttons her shirt, starting at the bottom and stopping after her belly is uncovered.  
  
Harry can see fine red lines of ancient magic written around her navel, darting up somewhere between her breasts and down hiding in her trousers.  
  
"I think I'll name him Tom. After his father."  
  
And she points to some tiny characters just above her navel that apparently state the genitor's name.  
  
He is speechless.  
  
Ginny simply buttons up her shirt.  
  
"Don't you want to come in?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry stares at her with disgust.  
  
Ginny raises her eyebrows.  
  
"It's not like he will rip his way out of my belly and Avada Kedavra you on the spot."  
  
"You are mad." He manages to sputter before he turns around and hurries down the stairs, almost tripping over the boots on the second floor.  
  
Ginny touches her belly.  
  
"No one has ever understood me like you, Tom." 


	2. Libera Me

Tom is one year old and it's Ginny's 20th birthday when Ron rings her doorbell. She carries Tom on her hip when she answers the door. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail and she seems to be happy to see him.  
  
"She still sends you a Christmas jumper?"  
  
Ron asks incredulously, staring at the bright yellow G on her chest. Ginny makes a noise between a chuckle and a snort.  
  
"No, George does. So, do you want to come in? I have cake."  
  
The cake is bought and tastes just like that, common and characterless. Tom plays with a scrawny black cat while they're eating. When Ginny has finished her piece of cake, she picks they boy up and places him on her lap.  
  
"Tom, this is your uncle Ron."  
  
Tom looks at him and Ron feels a shiver running down his spine.  
  
"Holly!"   
  
The boy crows with a bright smile. Ginny chuckles and points a foot at the cat.  
  
"That's her name. Anything bigger than her is 'Holly'. Well, except for me and Dumbledore."  
  
Ron is too surprised at that to choke on the cake.  
  
"Dumbledore?"  
  
He sprays crumbs all over the table.  
  
"Sure - could you take him for a second?"  
  
She puts Tom in his arms and opens the window to let the cat out.  
  
"Dumbledore is his godfather. He helps me a lot with raising Tom."  
  
She clears the table and - to Ron's surprise - gets a wand and scourgifies the dishes.  
  
"Tom, would you like to visit Rachel?"  
  
She takes the boy from Ron and pecks his rosy cheek.  
  
"We could go for a walk while he's with the babysitter. And talk a bit."  
  
Ron nods and gets up, too.  
  
"Sure, I'd love to, you know, catch up..."  
  
He feels awkward, like he's in a foreign country and knows neither language nor customs. He's lost in Ginny's little kingdom with Tom as her army. Ron is a stranger without any hope of finding the way home.  
  
He finds himself with Tom in his arms again while Ginny puts on shoes and a jacket and runs around looking for her keys. Finally she pulls the door closed behind them and rings the doorbell across the hall. A short woman with dark hair opens and at once agrees o watch after Tom, who squeals something that could be understood as "Cookie!"  
  
They walk silently, Ron always a step behind Ginny. She leads them to a tiny park and sits down on a bench.   
  
"So, when are you going to ask me?"  
  
Ron is startled.  
  
"Ask what?"  
  
Ginny's gaze wanders over his face, coming to rest somewhere behind him.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe you want to ask why. Maybe you want to ask me to come back. Maybe you just want to know how I'm doing."  
  
She looks him in the eye and he looks away.  
  
"Not necessarily in that order.", he mumbles. "I just... wanted to ask you to come back."  
  
"But where to? The Burrow is almost empty -"  
  
Ron interrupts her.  
  
"You know,", he says cautiously, "You're not the only one with a kid... "  
  
Ginny's eyes grow wide.  
  
"Who of you -"  
  
"Bill's daughter is two years old. She's a true Weasley, Mum says even worse than the twins. Spends a lot of time at the Burrow with her grandparents. Mum and Dad wouldn't mind looking after another kid, I'm sure... "  
  
Ginny shakes her head.  
  
"I'm not. Mum sees Voldemort in him. I think she hates me for what I've done. And she hates him."  
  
Ron sighs.  
  
"Oh, Ginny. Don't be stupid. We all miss you sorely. Especially Mum, although she'd be the last to admit it."  
  
Ginny only smiles a sad little smile in reply. When Ron takes her hand it's cold and feels like a plant beneath his fingers. Like a foreign plant, maybe a cactus, but without the needles. And when he leans over to kiss her cheeks she flinches away like the needles are there, only on the inside and they'd pierce her soul or heart, or simply her flesh.  
  
She gets up and Ron follows her to a river. They stand on the bridge for a long time, Ron talking about the past three years and Ginny throwing stones and sticks and leaves into the water.   
  
When Ron tells her about Hermione and how he loved her but she didn't love him, Ginny takes his hand. She is still staring into the murky water, watching the sticks and leaves float away. He hand doesn't feel like an alien plant anymore. Her skin may be cool and smooth but Ron can feel the living flesh beneath it. And when she kisses him he doesn't flinch away because he knows there are no needles. She's Ginny and she's alive and warm.  
  
At first he thinks she's speaking against his lips but then he realizes that it must be the way she's kissing him.   
  
And although it's not the best idea to open his mouth, he does just that.  
  
There's a flash of lightning, the crack of a thunder and then rain pours down on them. Ron thinks about right and wrong, about sin and morals while they are running back to the flat, his hand still in Ginny's.  
  
They are sitting in the living room, Tom is in bed and the cat is sitting on his lap.  
  
"Did you love him?"  
  
Ginny shrugs.  
  
"I was eleven. I didn't know anything about love. I adored him. He was smart, he was understanding... I'd like to show you something."  
  
She gets up and fetches something from the writing desk across the room. When she stands in front of him he recognizes a piece of paper and a quill.  
  
"I tore this out before I found out about Tom."  
  
She explains, sits down and begins to write.  
  
'Hi Tom. It's me, Ginny.'  
  
Ron watches the lines disappear and freezes with shock when the paper answers. The handwriting is sloppy and the ink seems faded.  
  
'Hello Ginny. Do I know you?'  
  
"He doesn't even know who he is. And he can't keep anything in mind. Countless times I told him about myself and... our son, but he simply can't... "  
  
She bites her lip and blinks slowly, as if she's about to cry.  
  
"Would you give me your wand for a moment? I left mine in the kitchen."  
  
When he hands it over their fingers touch for a moment and her skin burns him. She's made of fire or maybe she is a plant after all, maybe she's nettles.   
  
His lips are itching as he watches her setting fire to the paper. 


End file.
